Game Changers
by Meercatwhisperer112
Summary: Rose Lalonde had no intention of getting involved with one of the most feared gangs in Skaia, but between her estranged brother and an omniscient meddler, she doesn't have much choice. Now the Felt are going missing one by one, angels have been sighted in the second realm, and a prophecy she can't quite make heads or tails of weighs heavily on her mind.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: This story will get pretty gory, so I'm going to state it right here: if you dislike/are triggered by gore, torture, murder and other crime related violence, hit backspace and remove yourself from this page; it will not be a story for you. That said, suicide/self harm and sexual violence are not part of the story currently, and I'm about 98% sure it will stay that way. If it changes, I will warn you.**

**Characters copyright Andrew Hussie**

* * *

**_== Be the witch_**

You're name is Rose Lalonde, and right now you're fifty shades of confused.

It had started with cabin fever. All the weird stuff in your life starts with cabin fever, as when you're bored you tend to make rash decisions. You'd thought you were being pretty restrained- rather than getting into drugs or injecting ink into large swathes of skin, you'd impulse bought a bag of fortune cookies and a truth potion. It was only going meant to be a bit of fun. You hadn't expected to wind up with a _prophecy _of all things.

You scan the lines again.

_Do not learn the Eldritch ways_

_For human skin should not be gray_

_And feeble human tongues can't stand_

_The weight the Eldritch words command._

_The sweetest Rose still has its thorns_

_Trust not the friendly Capricorn_

_Void keeps its closest secrets tight_

_The darkness knows to fear the light._

The poem is laid out in front of you, each line on a separate slip of paper. Unlike the other fortunes, their words are in lilac ink rather than black. Scattered around them are cookie crumbs, and the other fortunes you've pulled out- painfully basic things, like _You are blonde _and _There is a tree near you. _The sort of things one would expect when one is dicking around with magic.

The wind suddenly picks up, pulling the papers into the air before you can grab them. You try anyway, leaning forward to snatch at them. They slip through your fingers and are lost.

That's when you notice the boy.

He's sat on the other side of the park, near a family of prospitians out enjoying the clear weather. His clothes are a muted grey and large sunglasses cover most of his face. You can tell that he's looking right at you.

You break open another cookie, and when you look up again he's gone.

Popping the cookie into your mouth, you pack up. The last fortune was anticlimactic, albeit not wrong- _This galaxy is heliocentric. _It's getting late, and there's a heaviness in the air that suggests the brief respite from Skaia's rainy season isn't going to last much longer. You'd rather not be drenched.

You weave through the crowds of carapaces returning home from work, pausing just long enough to drop a boondollar into the hat of some cullbait huddled by the side of the road. The troll- looks like rust, but you can't see very well underneath all its bundling- gives a grateful grunt and you carry on your way.

That had been one of the strangest things to wrap your head around. The portal had been surprising, yes, as had the revelation of magic, but with the amount of wizard slash you had read in your formative years you had managed to take it in your stride.

However, the fact that aliens also existed pushed the entire situation to a level of implausible that even the most open-minded, Luna Lovegood type characters would find difficult to swallow.

When you first arrived, you thought that trolls were also inhabitants of Skaia, same as the carapaces. In fact, you'd managed to maintain that belief for a fairly long time, most likely because you tended to avoid them- as a species, they weren't known for their gentleness. It wasn't until a cullbait girl had spent a few days at your cabin, sheltering from the blizzards of the cold season, that you actually learned anything about them.

Like that they came from the same dimension as humans, but just happened to be on the other side of the universe.

You push your gate open, skirting the pothole where you dropped some antimatter a few months ago, and walk up the path. The wind rustles the leaves of the trees around you and it's beginning to rain, the plink plink of droplets hitting loam filling the air, but over that you hear a crack.

When you reach the front door, you reach into your pocket where you keep your key. The crack comes again.

You spin and pin the boy to the wall, a knitting needle digging into the flesh of his windpipe. To his credit, he doesn't flinch.

"What gave it away?"

"I have yet to see a troll that wears Converse." He sighs, and then before you have a chance to blink you're the one pinned to the wall, his hand on your throat- not strangling you, but firm enough that you know you haven't a chance of escaping. He presses the boondollar back into your hand.

"Thanks for the sentiment. I really appreciate it. You gonna invite me in?"

"I don't really have a choice in the matter, now, do I?"

"I was trying to be polite." The hand falls away and he opens the door- you didn't even see him grab the key- motioning for you to go first. You're coming to the sinking conclusion that you're vastly outmatched. "It's not my fault that you don't recognise a fucking gentleman when you see one."

"Yes; it's a complete mystery as to how I failed to pick up on your oh-so-obvious charm. Why are you following me?" The door falls shut behind him, and he strides past you to sit on your dining table, shoving a sheath of papers and some bottles out the way first. A small vial of banshee screams teeters precariously, but thankfully does not fall.

"Think of me as your conscription card. You're being drafted to 'Nam. Kiss your loved ones goodbye, pack your shit and get ready to douse some naked kids in napalm; there's a war going on, and we need you." When you do not react beyond raising an eyebrow, he sighs and resettles. "You ever heard of Beta?" You shake your head. "What about the Midnight Crew?"

"The gang?"

"Yeah; well, Beta's a subsection of that. Like one of the hydra heads, except it's pretty much one of the main heads. More like the dragon's head. Okay, no, this metaphor's gotten away from me. Anyway, you've gotten their attention and so I've been sent to fetch you."

He can't be serious.

He gives you a look over the top of his glasses, irises a jewel red that sends a jolt straight through you.

He's absolutely serious.

"Why would a gang want me?"

"Lot of reasons; mainly, though, they want someone who's good at getting information. Sources point to you."

"These sources sound far better at it than me."

"You don't get a say in this. You can either come with me willingly, or I'll pick you up and drag you there myself. It's your call." You pause, eyeing him and weighing your options. If he's really part of the Midnight Crew then it doesn't matter if you manage to overpower him- they'll just send someone else to fetch you. On the other hand, you've been going stir crazy ever since the rainy season started two months ago.

All the interesting stuff in your life starts with cabin fever.

"Just one question- are you a Capricorn?"

"No, I'm a Libra; why?"

"Give me a few minutes to pack. I'll come."

**_== Be the 8est!_**

Of course. You're never anything but the best in everything you do. It's what makes you a winner, unlike all those other losers and fuckups.

At the moment, Aradia holds pride of place at the top of that list.

Your orders were simple- get in, grab the documents detailing their purchases- namely of that new drug you've been hearing a lot about, 'angel blood' or something- and then completely fuck their shit up. Well, the memo had said 'Leave nothing standing,' but the meaning is the same. What it didn't say was for the idiot to let her guard down and let three henchmen jump her.

You duck a left hook from the dersite you're currently fighting and shoot a dark look at Aradia, who is too busy with her own two carapaces to notice. These guys clearly come from a long and noble line of pedigree goon, with big meaty faces and hands the size of trashcan lids. Mouth Breather, as you've decided to name yours, swings both of these hands down in a strike that shakes you to your bones, no matter that you dodged it, and leaves a large crack in the concrete floor of the warehouse.

"Vriska!" Aradia shouts, and out of the corner of her eye you see her reeling, one of her henchmen going in for another strike. You dart your foot out and catch his ankle, but this fight is fast going south and you realise you need to do something soon.

The warehouse is filled with all sort of random things in an attempt to put up a convincing front to the Skaian authorities, none of whom are buying it. The section you're in seems to be gardening supplies- lawn mowers, bags of fertiliser and triffid guns all mixed together. Your eye lands on a wood chipper and a sharp grin tugs across your face. On the next dodge, you youth roll over to it, flicking it on with your toe.

Now: how to get them into it?

Carapaces are immune to troll psychic powers, annoyingly- all troll psychic powers save for chucklevoodoos at least, and since Gamzee is probably happily guzzling Faygo in his respite block and fantasizing over Karkat papping him, that isn't much help. You look around, trying to work out how you're going to do this, and your gaze settles on Aradia.

Carapaces may be immune, but rustbloods certainly aren't.

You shove the wood chipper, which conveniently comes with wheels, towards the other fight, dodge a roundhouse kick and snatch control over Aradia's mind. Using her, you grab the wrists of her aggressors and tug sharply backwards. They're caught off balance, and all three of them tumble into the machine, blood flying everywhere as the sound of bones cracking and flesh being sliced fills the air. The henchman who had been attacking you freezes in shock, and you take the opportunity to drive the heel of your palm into his nose, forcing the bone there straight into his brain. He dies quickly, with only a soft gurgle.

Blood is slowly spreading across the floor, rust mixing with the oily black that dersites leak if you stab them. The wood chipper lets out a final whine and gives up, about two thirds of a body's worth of flesh and bone shards scattered across the ground next to it. A foot still sticks out the other end, and you wrinkle your nose in distaste, choosing instead to head back to the main office and finish breaking into the safe.

You are the best code breaker. It is you. The safe needs an eight digit code, and a single roll of your dice provides you with the numbers, which you key in to the electronic pad. It gives a whir and a click, swinging open.

There are the documents Karkat was raving about, along with a couple of gold ingots which you grin and pocket. At the back is another strongbox, which soon succumbs to your picking. Inside are several packets of the drug that has been causing you all these problems. You hesitate, before captchaloguing it too. Perhaps Pupa can figure out what it actually _is._

"I didn't appreciate that," says a voice behind you, and you huff and push yourself to your feet. Aradia is leaning against the doorframe, clothes torn and bloodstained but otherwise none the worse for wear. "That regeneration was unnecessarily painful."

"I'm soooooooo sorry; you _clearly _needed my help, and it's not like there's any real damage." You both leave the office, skirting around blood smears as you walk back through the warehouse.

"One day you'll realise that saying sorry like that just makes it more obvious how completely unapologetic you actually are."

"What do you want from me? A 5000 word dissertation on why I feel guilty?"

"I'll settle for one of those gold bars. The reaper's been asking for payment again, and this little stunt you pulled is just going to make him antsy."

"Sorry, not sorry." You hand over the bar anyway, the doors of the warehouse clanging shut behind you. She captchalogues it, and both of you turn back to face the building. "Okay, maybe I'm kind of sorry; that wood chipper didn't look fun. Do you want to raze it?" She looks at you, one eyebrow quirking up.

"Really? It's your turn."

"I know. Just level the fucking thing, or I'll do it myself anyway." Aradia grins and tosses her hair back, lifting one hand up and pointing it at the building in a way vaguely reminiscent of the antagonist of In Which A Group Of Mutants Who Should Not Exist Attempt To Justify Their Existence And Destroy All Proper Gened And Mother Grub Fearing Trolls (Rated R for pale promiscuity and themes of rebellion).

You can see the building aging before you as you watch- slowly at first, paint peeling off in layers and the room sagging a little. Then the windows begin to shatter and cracks appear in the walls, and suddenly the whole thing collapses. You can't help but be impressed, even if you've seen it a hundred times before

"You're getting faster." Her grin widens and she leans back against the gate, slipping her hands into her pockets.

"You didn't actually think it was the bad weather that was affecting all of Equius' stables, did you?" You snort at the thought of the idiot and his precious musclebeasts. How his flushed affections haven't flipped yet is a miracle.

"You're little black crush actually makes me kind of nauseous. I mean, you could do soooooooo much better than sergeant hemocaste."

"Don't you start again, Vriska."

"I'm just saying! You're going to look back at this and you're going to feel so embarrassed."

"I have only one word: Ampora." Your no doubt cutting and brilliant reply is cut off by a timid yet terse

"I'm sure you're having a, well, a great time giggling over there. But we should probably, I don't know, leave the scene of the crime? Like, pretty soon?"

"Calm yourself, Pupa," you call back, striding towards the car; Aradia falls into step behind you. "We were just talking about how platonically repugnant we find you."

"Vriska, I'm pretty sure that insulting me, isn't what you're supposed to do, as my moirail." Aradia slips into the front next to him and you huff and climb in the back. It's one of your deals: she gets shotgun every mission that you kill her.

She gets shotgun most missions.

"Maybe you should have thought of that before entering the pale quadrant with a renowned bitch," you snap back. You can see him roll his eyes, because the action makes his horns swing slightly.

"In that case I guess I'd either get some better friends or face the fact that I'll die alone."

"Don't worry," says Aradia sweetly, adjusting the chair so that she's leaning back. "You'll always have Gamzee."

He flushes brown and doesn't say another word the entire journey back.

* * *

Karkat Vantas takes one look, eyes flicking between the blood on your shoes and Aradia's torn clothes, and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You killed her. Again. Why did you kill her again?"

"She threw me in a wood chipper," sniffs Aradia and you stamp on her foot. She smirks back and kicks you in the shin. You both begin to jostle each other, freezing when you catch sight of the glare that Karkat is levelling at you. Before he can say anything, you shove the documents into his hands, hoping he won't notice the not-particularly-subtle bulge of gold in your pockets. He quickly scans them.

"English. English. Who the fuck do we know that's called English?"

"Jake English. Jade's human dancestor thing. Sir." You tack it on at the end, and he raises an eyebrow, eyes falling on your coat.

"Yeah, Serket, you can keep it. Don't do the sir thing, it freaks me out coming from you." He snaps the file shut, and passes both it and the bags of the drugs into Tavros' hands. "Nitram, stick the file in my office and then give these a look over. Get Harley to help. I want to know what kind of drug it is, I want to know its potency, I want to know what it's made out of, and mainly I want to know where we can get some. Think you can have answers by tomorrow's meeting?" Tavros gives a shaky nod.

"I can try." He leaves, and Karkat turns back to you and your partner.

"You two are going to get English- Jake English, I mean, not whoever the fuck this guys is. Start planning, because our aim is probably for tomorrow night." You glance out the window- the sun is just peeking over the horizon, and though you're bone tired you have all day to sleep.

"We can do it tonight," says Aradia, stealing the words straight out of your mouth. Karkat just shakes his head.

"The new Lalonde is coming tonight, and I want you at the meeting when we introduce her. No, don't argue Serket," he snaps, seeing you open your mouth. "No earlier than then, and that's final. Now get out of my sight." You take one look at his expression, and decide to just go with it.

**== Let's be Rose again**

He lets you take one bag of clothing and that's it, keeping a careful eye on what you put in. At your annoyed glare, he simply shrugs.

"I don't you pulling any witchy shit on me. Magical broads like you, there's no knowing what could happen. I'd probably end up a frog or some shit, and I am way too handsome to pull that off. Ladies everywhere would die from grief, stripped of the chance to get a piece of this fine ass." He looks like he's going to continue, but you give him your best Look and he shuts up.

When you finish packing, he explains how you're getting there- portal most of the way, and then by horse the rest because apparently it's warded- and proceeds to burn down your cottage. You don't let him see any reaction save for a slight pursing of your lips.

"I had a partially reanimated cat in there."

"Huh. Wouldn't have pegged you as a necromancy type. Guess you'll just have to partially reanimate it again."

"It's not that simple."

"I don't think it's physically possible for me to care less."

The portal stings slightly, as always, and you notice that the one you travel through is a deep Jade. Definitely not one he made himself then, because his aura is as red as his shoes. So- not good with physical magic, but obviously still a magic user, otherwise he wouldn't have an aura in the first place.

"Wow, Lalonde," he says after about twenty minutes riding. "You're really talking my ear off. Any louder and everyone's going to know we're coming." You pass from the muffled forest you've been riding in to a fair sized tunnel cut into the hill, where every noise seems to bounce back at you with a strange, tinny ring to it.

"Was there something you wanted me to talk about?" To your surprise, he shifts in the saddle, a small grimace breaking through his poker face.

"There's something you should probably know before we get there actually."

"Is it important?"

"Somewhere between a pet cat dying and Franz Ferdinand's assassination."

"I appreciate the ambiguity."

"Fuck off. It's..." You crest the hill, and as a large building comes into view you can physically see him bottle. "Oh cool, we're here. Lalonde, say hello to your new home- partially reanimated cats not included."

To be entirely honest, you never stopped to think about what your new headquarters would look like. However, you're sure that if you had, the edifice suddenly looming right above you is the last thing you would have imagined.

It's a strange amalgamation of what looks like an ancient Derse castle, with crumbling purple stones and balconies and turrets and all that, with what you know to be what a troll hive looks like- pointed angles with random protrusions jutting out and light shining through their small, square windows. It is, in a word, hideous.

"That is a fugly building," you say, and Dave snorts so hard his sunglasses nearly fall off. He pushes them back up, and gives a small cough as though hoping to cover it up.

"Trolls are about as good at architecture as a one armed man is at playing the accordion. He tries his best, he really does, but all you get are jerky movements and the melancholy tune of the terrible."

"The very sight of it gives small children nightmares. Descriptions of it are told as a cautionary tale to young architects. It is their Icarus, their warning of the consequences of flying too close to the sun."

"It's like the fucking ugly duckling of buildings, except in reverse- it starts off pretty decent looking, but as time passes it just deteriorates, dive bombing like a kamikaze pilot with something to prove. It-"

"Why don't you nookchafes stop flogging the metaphorical deceased hoofbeast and spare me from 'brain atrophy due to idiocy' as my cause of death?" Dave rolls his eyes as a short, impeccably dressed troll steps out from the shadow next to the gate. "No, wait, never mind. It's not like I'm trying to run a fucking organisation. Just keep prattling out your inanities like we have all the fucking time in the world on our hands."

"Knight of Time, Vantas, or did you mess that memo? What are you even doing here anyway? Hanging out like a creeper at a frat party, some forty year old dude hoping to pick up jail bait like nobody's business. Fucking weird, that's what it is." The troll glares back, before letting out a deep sigh and pinching the bridge of his nose tightly enough that his fingers go white.

"Mr Milkshake is here. He wants to talk to Rose." The troll turns to you, sighs again, and offers his hand to help you climb down. "God, fuck that guy. No, please don't, that would be horrific. Just know that you're talking to the most important man in Skaia short of the monarchy. Not me, I mean, Doc Scratch. That's Mr Milkshake by the way." He stops completely for a moment, clenching his fist and gritting his teeth in an obvious sign of frustration before relaxing again. "Fuck this. Follow me." You glance at Dave, but all he does is shrug, so you shrug back and dismount. The troll takes your bag, and with a set of lungs that must constitute a good 90% of his body mass hollers "MEGIDO!" and tosses it outwards. Another troll, a girl this time, appears just in time to catch it and then fixes him with a glare.

"How many times have I told you about fucking with the time stream?"

"I don't care, just get it to the new seer's room. Or get Equius to get it to the new seer's room. No, don't do that, that would be disgusting. Just- just deal with it." She looks at Dave, throws it at him and disappears again. He disappears too, taking your bag with him and leaving two horses just stood there in the middle of the driveway. Karkat sighs again.

"If he doesn't get Nitram or Equius down here... whatever, we don't have time for this shit. Follow me." He strides into the night and you follow, feeling... less than overwhelmed by your introduction into a life of crime. You had expected the mafia to be a bit more intimidating than this, or at least better organised.

He doesn't lead you to what looks like the building's main entrance, preferring a small door inset deep into the stone. Beyond is a veritable warren of corridors, dimly lit by a mixture of candles and gas lamps and peppered with wooden chests.

"What do you keep in those?"

"Mostly, my worst nightmares and the urns that I use to store perished hopes and dreams. I think a couple of them might have tea, though." His shoes echo off the stone with each step, and you notice that there are small heels on them. This is the dread mafia leader?

"Tea. Naturally. I don't know what else I could have expected."

"Save it, Lalonde, we have enough snarky broads running around without you immediately contributing to the clusterfuck." The corridors grow narrower, and as you turn corner after corner you realise you have completely lost your bearings.

"Is it your aim to discombobulate anyone who passes these halls?"

"Only the ones we don't like the look of." Finally, you stop outside a dark wooden door inlaid with iron studs. "Here you fucking go. Goodbye." He turns to leave.

"Are you really going to allow to me go in without imparting any knowledge of the man? You could at least tell me what species he is." Karkat hesitates, then shrugs.

"Let's go with carapace." You give him a flat look, before turning and knocking on the door. A muffled voice calls for you to enter. "Oh, and Rose?" With your hand on the handle you pause, looking back at him over your shoulder. "Good luck."

You give him a small nod and push the door open.


	2. Chapter 2

**== Rose: Enter room**

The door shuts behind you with a resounding click, and you turn to face the room. It's average sized, filled with green furniture that clashes horribly with the purple stone, red carpets that clash with the green furniture, and gold draperies that somehow managed to clash with everything. Half hidden in the shadows, lurking so that you almost miss him, is the man you assume to be Mr Milkshake. The moment your eyes settle on him, he steps out into the lamplight.

"Hello, Miss Lalonde. My name is Doc Scratch." He is...

You have no idea what he is.

Doc Scratch, aka the boss' boss' boss, looks fairly carapace-like at first glance. His fingers, wrapped around the stem of a cocktail glass, are smooth howlite like the other prospitians, and his figure is definitely humanoid, clad in a neatly pressed green suit. The only thing strange about him is his head.

It is strange because it is a giant cue ball, complete with a small chip near the apex of the dome. When his head moves you can hear the soft sloshing of some sort of liquid. The shell... covering... thing seems to also be made of howlite, and is as wide as his shoulders.

He holds out his left hand for you to shake, because his right is still holding the glass. Why a man with no mouth needs a cocktail is beyond you, but your question as to what is in his head is answered when you rescind your grip- he picks up another glass, tilts his head sideways, and fills it with a stream of drink that pours out what you suppose is his ear hole.

He then hands this to you. It looks disgusting.

"Do you know why you're here?"

"Because I'm good at gathering information?" He takes a... sip? From his glass, and inclines his head as though to suggest you do the same. You smile back and do not oblige.

"Is that the only reason? Oh dear. Oh dear, no. Do you believe in serendipity, Miss Lalonde?"

"Are you propositioning me?"

"Of course not. That would be inappropriate, and I would never behave inappropriately. I am, after all, an excellent employer." The way he says it sounds vaguely sinister, and you feel yourself bristle.

"Is that what you believe yourself to be? My employer? I assume you know that I was not given any choice in the matter."

"I did know that, but that is because I am omniscient, not because it was I who ordered it. I simply requested that you be hired; it is they who chose the why and the how." He takes a step towards you, and then another one, and leaning his bulbous head forward until it is just centimetres from yours. "Now, I'll ask again- do you believe in serendipity?"

He has no mouth, but you can smell his breath- it smells like ozone and those fish liver oil tablets your mother made you take when you were young. You wonder if you're in over your head, but you stand your ground and do not shy away.

"I don't think I do." He makes a small huffing noise, but straightens up again.

"What if I told you of four humans who worked together in the same office, but didn't meet until they all came to Skaia? Or that they had children, seperated from each other but destined to one day reunite? What if you heard of a feared gang of trolls, whose only descendants were all hatched within six sweeps of each other? Would you believe me if I told you about how these descendants formed two gangs, completely independent of each other, and went on to become some of the most feared individuals in the three realms? What would you say to that?

"I would say that it sounds too good to be true to me."

"Well it is true; every word of it is true. Serendipity is as real as you or I or the magic that you practice."

"I never said it wasn't true, or it wasn't real. It just sounds too good to be chance." You hesitate, the words faltering on the tip of your tongue; you spit them out anyway. "It sounds like it's been orchestrated."

He stills.

"Who would have the wherewithal to do that?" His voice has gone soft, almost too soft for you to hear.

"A man who claims himself to be omniscient, perhaps?" There is a heavy pause. Then he turns and flings his glass against the wall behind him. It shatters on the purple stone, and shards rain down in crystals. You flinch, but do nothing more, watching the alcohol trickle down the walls.

He turns back, straightens out his tie, and sighs.

"The point to that- ahem- rather derailed conversation is that there would have been no point in them giving you a choice in this matter. You always would have arrived here, Miss Lalonde. This is your destiny."

"I believe in destiny as much as I do serendipity, but I'm going to focus on what is probably the least relevant part of this conversation to you- are you saying I have a sibling?"

"Would you be surprised if I was?"

"No; I'd always suspected mother had had clandestine affairs before I was born. Or perhaps after. Who can say?" You spread your hands before you in a 'who knows?' gesture, and take the opportunity to illicitly pour your drink into some garish pot plant. If he really is omniscient, then he'd have known you wouldn't drink it anyway.

"Who indeed, save for someone such as yourself."

"Myself being?"

"You're a seer, Rose Lalonde, and not just any common seer: you're a seer of light." Somehow, when you'd imagined your Daniel Radcliffe moment, the messenger was never so... creepy.

"I assume those words have meaning. Ironically enough, you're going to have to enlighten me to it." Gods, you just wish he had facial expressions. His body language is difficult to read, and it's nerve wracking when you've seen how violently his mood can change. You keep your own face impassive, and curse the day his weird ball-head ever saw the sun.

"Light is knowledge. And, as a clever young girls such as yourself knows, knowledge is power."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just quote School House Rock. However, I can't ignore the fact that you claim to be both omniscient and in need of someone who can obtain knowledge."

"I don't meddle, Rose; it is, after all, one of the things that makes me such an excellent employer. The Beta need someone who can get them information, and that someone is you." He pauses, and for a moment you think that is all he will say on the matter. Instead, he reaches into a pocket, and pulls out what looks like a mini-version of his head. A tribal shrunken head perhaps? You somehow doubt it.

However," he continues after a pause, "I will give you two pieces of help. First, my Omni-ball, to aid your seeing abilities. It can either be a curse or a blessing- I'm curious to see, even though I already know, what it shall be for you." He hands you the orb, which is made from polished howlite veined with grey. You see now that it is like a magic eight ball, also filled with liquid and with a clear window for prophecies. It is a surprising weight, and you cup it to you on instinct before slipping it into your sylladex.

"Thank you?"

"Don't thank me yet. It has dark properties, so use it wisely. All you must do is ask it a question, though the answer may not always be clear at first. The second favour is that you may ask me, an omniscient being, one question. I am much more straightforward, but make it a good one. Questions are how we obtain our knowledge, after all, and knowledge is-"

"Is power, yes, you said." You stop for a long moment, scrutinising him. He coughs into a fist, and for a moment you're tempted to ask if he has lungs. But no. That would be silly. "Are you a Capricorn?" you ask instead, and if he had facial features you're pretty sure he would be smiling.

"I see you're already learning the right questions to ask. No, I am not." The door behind you swings open, and you take this as your cue to leave. "Goodbye, Miss Lalonde." He calls after you. "Happy seeing."

**== Kanaya: Debrief the new seer**

"Rose Lalonde?" you ask as she steps out the door, making her jump and reel to face you. The light off your skin makes her squint, and you dim yourself. "Better?"

"Rainbow drinkers don't exist."

"Neither do humans, Miss Lalonde, but here we both stand. Would you care to follow me?" You don't wait for an answer, turning on your heel and walking back up the corridor in the direction from which you just came. She falls into step behind you.

"What's next on my whistle-stop tour of this lovely crime ring? Will I be threatened again? Or perhaps we can burn some more of my possessions."

"You sound frustrated. The Doctor does tend to have that effect on people."

"Of course I'm frustrated! I haven't received a straight answer to a single question all day, save for what star sign an omnipotent being _isn't,_ and now a troll vampire is leading me through this maze of gangster headquarters to lord only knows where. So yes, I suppose you could say I'm feeling fairly frustrated." You reach the FRAF section and key in your code, ushering her into a small room just inside the door.

It's a small conference room, barely used since FRAF membership exceeded seven, but it has polished tables and plush chairs and that's really all you need right now. You sit down and she follows suite, shooting you a resentful glare.

"Well, consider me the straight answer to all of your questions."

"I thought trolls were pansexual and polyamorous." You return her glare and she leans back into the chair, seeming to just suddenly relax, all at once. With any luck her little outburst has calmed her down. "I'm sorry, that was unnecessary; please, continue?"

"My name is Kanaya; I'm here to give you the standard briefing for all new members. Before we can proceed, you need to read the eight core rules and sign the waiver at the bottom saying that you agree." You hand her the sheet of paper and watch as her eyes scan it, already knowing the rules off by heart thanks to Karkat's annual 'Refresher' meetings- an event seemingly designed to refresh everyone's platonic hatred for one another.

Follow the fucking chain of command If people aren't involved, keep them uninvolved Non-FRAF members may only enter FRAF areas if accompanied by a FRAF member FRAF members may not talk to non-FRAF or non-Beta individuals while under the influence of soporifics (or similar) without another FRAF member present. Non-FRAF members may not talk to non-Beta members while under the influence end of. Full disclosure of all projects and activities must be given if questioned by a FRAF member (applies to FRAF members and non-FRAF members equally) Don't speak, sign or in any other way communicate with the Beta unless you have spoken with Karkat Vantas beforehand. Don't kill the fucking consorts. Sexually assault someone, and your bulge will be ripped off, your nook filled with cement and your body dumped into a river. If you lack a nook, another orifice will be found. If you lack a bulge, one of your limbs will be used instead.

Sign here-

She takes the pen from you and with a flourish that in your opinion was completely unnecessary, signs it _Rose Lalonde. _Handing the pen back to you, her gaze never leaving the sheet, she asks

"What's FRAF, and am I a member?"

"It stands for Fierce, Rude and Aggressive Fighters or Fruity Rumpus Asshole Factory, depending on who you ask. And yes, you are automatically a member due to your having siblings in Alpha." She pauses, looking at you from the corner of her eye.

"Siblings? Plural?" You pull out the second sheet of paper, a large piece of A3 that's been folded in half to fit it into the folder, and spread it out before the two of you. It has photos of all the FRAF members and their correlating Alpha dancestors; hers clearly stands out as the most recent addition, wedged into the corner. She stares at the line between it and the photos of Roxy, Dirk and Dave, and she lets out an almost imperceptible breath of air. "Dave?"

"I'm sorry. I assumed you knew."

"I didn't." There is a long pause as she continues to stare at the photos, before abruptly folding the sheet up and pushing it away. "What else is there?"

"This is a rough floor guide of the headquarters." You hand her a third sheet. "You're allowed to look at it for as long as you want while we sit here, but as soon as this conversation is over we shall have to destroy it. I suggest that you learn as much now as you can."

"Rough? It looks like it was drawn by a blind person."

"Most likely because it was, approximately half an hour ago. However, the key areas are still distinguishable. These are the FRAF areas- we are currently here. The meeting block is here; food can be found here or fetched for you by a consort; this will be your work area as we believed a magic proof room would be prudent; this is your new respite block, and the only one with access to it is you- save if Karkat decides to override."

"On what grounds would that occur?"

"Breaking one of the core eight, killing one of the Alpha-16 or if an intervention is sorely needed. In the case of an intervention, he will give override power to that person's moirail." She nods and continues to study the map before handing it back to you.

"Well, I think I've gleaned as much information from this as I can. What else is there?" You hand her the folder and get to your feet.

"This has additional information about the organisation, to be perused at your leisure. In it you will find your identity code, which can be used for accessing restricted areas. Apart from that, there is a meeting at ten tomorrow morning in the meeting block and Karkat wants you there." Rose nods and shoots you a quick, disarming smile.

"Thank you very much for your assistance, Kanaya."

"It was my pleasure; if you ever need any help, be sure to come find me."

"I will. Doubtless we'll be seeing much more of each other in the near future." You pause, and oh god, she gives you the world's most un-subtle eyebrow wiggle. Your cheeks flush a dark green, and you barely manage to squeak out

"Quite!"

Before you abscond from the room.

**== Karkat: Recieve startling information**

You take one look at the expression on Nepeta's face as she slinks in, along with the bound and trussed body slung over one shoulder, and wish you had taken Gamzee up on his offer to '_cool your motherfucking jets, my mad miracle bro.'_ As it is, you can feel a migraine beginning behind your gander bulbs. The way she drops the figure in front of you, like a baby meowbeast with its first kill, really doesn't help.

"Is it talking?" you ask, kicking at it. If it weren't for the horns peeking out above her Nepeta's liberal use of rope, you wouldn't even be able to tell that it's a troll. It hisses at you and begins to wriggle.

"The huntress hasn't tried to communicate with her unfurtunate prey. She pawt that Purrope might want to play with it instead." You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh, beckoning two consorts over.

"Stick it in the interrorgation room and send Pyrope down when she's free. Nepeta, I swear to Gog, Jegus and every other bastardised religious icon that our humans trip off their tongues every five fucking minutes, if you give me your entire report in third person I will personally kill every cat this side of Derse." She gives you a baleful glare before sticking out her tongue before nodding her assent. Between you, the consorts pick up the writhing figure and trot off.

"Okay, Mr Grumpy Pants, but only because this is _really _important." You lean back from the wide eyes suddenly invading your personal space.

"Okay, important enough that it can't go in a written report with everything else?" She nods, and steps further into your bubble.

"So, I was in the bushes out the back of the Alpha testing block, because Vriska wanted me to see if they've upgraded the locks there yet for tomorrow night's heist." You have to hunch down just to hear her talk, and she keeps shooting nervous looks around the room, despite the fact that you've been the only troll here since Kanaya left to debrief the new seer. "When I saw Roxy and Dirk walking up the path together."

"Nepeta, is this is something to do with your fucking shipping wall-"

"No, silly! Listen!" She looks around again and hunches even closer. "And they were talking about the Felt, because apparently all the Felt have been going missing, no one knows where to, and they're freaking out!" Sighing, you straighten up again.

"And now those maggot panned door handles are going to launch a raid because they fucking think it's us. Right, just what we need, a-" She grabs the front of your shirt and yanks you back down to her eye level.

"I said listen!" When you stay silent, she continues, voice now barely above a whisper. "They don't think it's us. They started talking about how worried Callie is about the missing leprechauns, and how no matter the fact that they keep moving the new ones to safe locations they're still going missing. She thinks it's her brother."

"Brother?" You whisper back, then scowl. "Brother?" You repeat again in your normal voice.

"The human dancestor thing."

"I didn't even know she had an ancestor, let alone a dancestor."

"_She doesn't." _Nepeta's mouth is right next to your ear now, and it takes all your willpower to keep from shivering. She sounds terrified. _"Callie's real name is Calliope."_

It takes a moment for the implication of that to sink in, and when it does your blood turns cold.

"Nepeta," you say, taking her by the shoulders and looking her square on. She's biting her lip and, you realise, shaking like a leaf. "What species is she?" Your voice is low and urgent and she looks like she's about to bolt.

"She's a cherub."


	3. Chapter 3

**== Rose: Attend meeting**

When you arrive at the meeting room you are surprised to find it is already occupied, despite the fact that you were a good ten minutes early. A human girl is curled up in one of the chairs, soundly sleeping, and you hesitate, unsure of whether or not to wake her up.

"Don't worry about her," says a soft, almost dreamy voice, and then a troll you recognise as Aradia from last night passes you in the doorway. She seems much less high strung than when you saw her before, and as though reading your mind she gives you a small smile. "Don't worry about me either. Communing with the reaper is an extremely mellowing experience."

"I wouldn't have guessed," you murmur, taking the seat next to her. She smells damp and musty, like the bottom of a deep cave or a tomb that hasn't been opened in years. You doubt that it is from her shampoo.

The room is silent for several minutes, save for the occasional snuffle from the sleeping girl and Aradia's soft humming. For your part, you stare at your hands and resist the urge to readjust your headband, an old childhood tic for when you were nervous. The slam of the door opening makes you jump.

"Jade, would you, uh, please put your gun down." The girl, Jade, lowers the pistol she'd pulled out and smiles at the two trolls sheepishly.

"Sorry guys. Don't you know the saying 'let sleeping humans lie'?"

"I'm, well, I'm pretty sure that that isn't how the saying..." he trails off as the other troll pushes past him and grabs the seat opposite you.

"We get it, Toreasnore," she says with a flip of her hair. He scowls, but when he sits down next to her their hands link together. She appraises you with a long look. "So, you're the new seer. Tell me something about myself that I don't know."

"You have what appears to be grub sauce on your chin." Aradia snorts and Jade falls back with peals of laughter, gun safely stowed away again. You allow yourself a small smile, and after a moment the troll gives a wry smile back, wiping the sauce away.

"Not bad. I'm Vriska Serket, and this doofus here is my moirail, Tavros." They're an odd pair; he has robotic legs that whir as he shifts, matching her left arm and eye. It seems to move independently of her right, which is fixed squarely on you, and you are briefly reminded of Mad Eye Moody. Then she flips her hair again and grins, wide and pointed like she knows something you don't. "There's a storm coming in three... two... one..."

"Get it into that useless pat of butter you so callously call a think pan!" Someone roars from the other side of the door, and if you had any money to your name you would put it on Karkat being the one who said that. "We are not funding any fucking doomsday devices!"

Lo and behold, your prophetic prowess is once again proved as Karkat slams into the room like a particularly annoyed tornado, followed by a drooping sea dweller. The others immediately snap to attention, even Aradia seeming to blink out of her fug to sit up straight, and you follow suit.

"But Kar," the sea dweller whines, dropping into the chair on the other side of you. A distractingly dazzling array of rings glint up, half blinding you with their gleam.

"Ampora, if I hear one more peep out of you Kanaya is going to find herself with more Tyrian blood than she can drink in a sweep, do I make myself abso-fucking-lutely clear?" He leans back sulkily, but doesn't say anything else. "Okay, Nitram, you have no more than ten words to tell me exactly what we are dealing with here."

"Angel blood," says Tavros, sliding a bag of dark green powder onto the middle of the table. You were unaware that glares could be deadpan, but somehow Karkat manages it.

"Well thank fuck, that just clears everything up. Tavros Nitram, lusii and gentletrolls, let's give him a round of applause for telling me the fucking name of the fucking drug, the one fucking thing I actually knew about it. Fuck!"

"Do you need me to fetch you moirail, Karkat?" asks Jade, but he waves her off with an irritated shake of his hand.

"No. No, I'm calm." He takes a deep breath and lets it out through gritted teeth before turning back to Tavros. "Would you care to elucidate?"

"The drug isn't just called Angel Blood; it's actually, well, angel blood. Literal. Blood of angels." The room seems to freeze in time, and then Karkat leans slowly forward.

"Angel blood?"

"Yes."

"Third realm angels?"

"Yes."

"The blood of third realm angels?"

"Are you, uh, screwing with me?" Karkat slumps back in his chair and runs a hand through his hair.

"I just wanted to fucking check that the universe really does hate me more than any sane creature would have deemed physically or psychologically possible. The answer is it does; it really fucking does. Okay, Nitram, what else?"

"We tested it on a carapace, a human and a troll, and it appears to be hallucinogenic and highly addictive. From what I, I mean we, Jade helped me with everything, could tell, it stimulates the production of adrenaline, so it should be pretty easy to tell when people are on it, because they'll be really jumpy. It also, um, melted the human's teeth." You grimace.

"And how the fuck does one go about extracting angel blood?"

"With a lot of fuckin' difficulty," snaps the sea dweller, and everyone turns to look at him. "Angels are trapped in the third realm. You'd have to go over there yourself to harvest it, or find a way to portal them over, except I don't reckon even Doc Scratch could to that."

"Just because you were too much of a loser to handle the third realm, Eridan, doesn't mean everyone else is the same." You wonder if Vriska has the physical capability to say a sentence without flipping her hair. "They've probably got a whole base set up for harvesting."

"Angels don't bleed, you fuckin' dullard, leastways not the first time you stab them."

"That's a good idea," say Karkat, and they both pause to look at him in confusion. "Ampora, on your feet. Come on, up! Okay, I want a three minute crash course on the third realm. Go." Eridan gives an awkward cough before straightening up.

"Okay, well, you need ta understand that the third realm is real different from the other two. It's not an alternate universe or anyfin like that-"

"No fish puns," Karkat snaps,

"-because it isn't even a universe. It's like a solar system, only the centre is this giant black planet with fourteen other planets in orbit around it. The fourteen planets are where leprechauns live-"

"Leprechauns?" you ask, and he _glares._

"Yes, leprechauns, now if you'll all stop fuckin' interupptin' me you might actually get school fed. Anyway, leprechauns, like what the Felt has, are about the same intelligence as humans, trolls and carapaces... well, some carapaces. You do know about the different levels a carapace, don't you?" He asks you with a sneer.

"I will not hesitate to stab you," you reply, glad now for the practice your mother gave you in keeping your voice perfectly calm. Aradia and Vriska snicker and Jade gives you a thumbs-up. Eridan flushes an ugly purple, but turns back to the rest of the table.

"That leaves the black planet. It is, in a word, fuckin' evil, and no one should ever go there. It has two sentient races, the angels and the cherubs. Cherubs are born in pairs, and are the more intelligent of the two. While pupas and adolescents, they have barely any power; however, if a cherub's twin is killed, they ascend and become completely deadly."

"Hurry up and tells us about the angels," says Vriska, pointedly yawning when he turns to her.

"You know, I'm sensin' a lot of hostility in the room, and I reckon it's 'cause your face is pissin' people off. How I'm supposed ta-"

"Ampora, tell it to your moirail; Serket, shut up. Both of you, stop with the fucking black flirting before I chunder all over this table." They start to sputter out denials, and are glared down by Karkat. "Ampora, the angels?"

"Well, they're dumber than the cherubs. Usually take orders from them. Start off benign enough, if you count only killin' each other as benign. Problem is, once they've been killed they come back, and then they are nasty as all fuck. It's a bitch to kill 'em again, too, only if you do they'll stay dead."

"A double death?" Karkat looks worried, a heavy scowl settling over his features as he grabs a pen and begins to scribble on the back of Tavros' papers.

"Well, yeah, I suppose you could call it that. Are you alright Kar?"

"The universe can go pail itself with a rusted pitchfork," is his only reply, before slamming a button on the wall next to him. Within seconds a consort appears. "Take these to Kanaya," he tells it. The yellow crocodile-thing scurries out. He turns back to Eridan.

"What does it take to kill them?"

"A legendary weapon is probably the only thing that'll cut it, not unless you got a lot a juice in your punch."

"And a cherub?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"Do I look like I am at the fucking liberty of being questioned right now, so help me Ampora answer my fucking question or I will disembowel you and string up your innards like the universe's tackiest bunting."

"What happened to no black flirting?" whispers Aradia, and both her and Vriska dissolve into giggles only to wither under Karkat's gaze.

"Are you quite done?" They nod, and he turns back to Eridan. "Ampora?"

"Before they ascend it's really fuckin' easy, though why anyone would do it I dunno, considerin' it would make a monster outta the other one. After though... you'd probably have to have a juju, and a really powerful one at that, before you could even hope to make a dent."

"A juju?" you ask, and are grateful when Aradia volunteers the answer, seemingly past all mellowness felt earlier.

"Jujus are game changers- extremely powerful objects with the potential to tip the scales in your favour. They're rare and impossible to replicate, but even if you have one you need to keep your distance, as they're known for their corrupting influence."

"Do we have any?"

"Depends on what point of time you're asking," grouses Karkat. "The lumps of flaming faeces at Alpha keep stealing ours; we steal them pack, and then the mind numbing circle of stupidity repeats itself."

"They're often used as bargaining chips," explains Jade. "If one of the core fift- sixteen, now, sorry- get's caught then they'll be swapped for a juju."

"At the moment they have every single fuckin' one." The glare Eridan sends to the table suggests that he is less than thrilled about this. "Even the fuckin' codpiece."

"Codpiece?" You repeat, disbelieving.

"You get high level and low level jujus," says Jade. "The more powerful it is, the more corrupting it is. Between us there are two high level ones and five or six low level ones, but Alpha has them all."

"Not for long!" Vriska practically sings. "When we capture Jake English tonight we can trade him for aaaaaaaallllllll the jujus!"

"Not all of them," Aradia corrects, "but we can definitely get one. I think Ahab's Crosshairs will probably be the most useful, as none of us know how to weaponize Lil Cal."

"Not to mention he's an eldritch horror from the depths of the most fucked up grub's day terrors." The others nod assent. You purse your lips.

_It has dark properties, so use it wisely_.

"What about this?" you ask, and decaptchalogue the omni-ball. It glints in the harsh fluorescent light of the room, and the others lean forward. "Mr Milkshake gave it to me yesterday, to 'aid my abilities.'"

"Yeah," says Karkat, picking it up and giving it a close look. For the first time all meeting, he smiles. "Yeah, that definitely counts."

**== Terezi: Be the interrorgator**

While the others are in the meeting, you make your way down to the interrorgation room. The troll you'll be talking to was the only one caught from the group that was after Nepeta. Works for the Alpha, but judging by the lack of calls received since her capture last night very low member. She's probably got nothing useful, but it always helps to be thorough. You left her in the room overnight to ponder her fate- a little alone time always seems to help.

She's cuffed to the chair when you walk in, stiff backed and reeking of fear and determination. What a delicious combination. You can tell already that this is going to be fun, and you haven't even begun yet.

"What's your name?"

"Claude Penele," she says, and you backhand her sharply. Smells like yellow, but obviously not a psiionic. Not good for much then.

"Wrong. What's your name?"

"Claude Penele." Slap.

"What's your job?"

"Legislacerator." Slap.

"Your job?"

"Threshcutioner." Slap.

"Your. Job."

"Bite me." You grab the other chair and pull it up next to her, straddling it and staring at her over the back with your sightless eyes. You can smell the outline of your hand on your face; it smells like mustard on cinnamon, and when it's over you're going to have to ask Dave to get you a human hotdog, because all this is making you hungry.

"I'm going to be honest, little piss blood: I am not a nice troll. I can drag this out for hours if you make me, and I will enjoy every moment of it. You mentioned legislacerators: I happen to have studied everything about them, including interrogation techniques down to the finest detail, and I've been making some notes of my own. It's not a matter of if you crack; it's a matter of when you crack, and how much blood they'll be washing off the floor. So I'll ask you again: what's. Your. Job." She audibly gulps.

"Bite me." You grin.

"Have it your way."

You weren't lying when you said you'd been refining the techniques of the legislacerators, but the comment about the blood may have been for effect: you've actually been looking into how to inflict the most pain while making the least mess. It's fascinating, and it saves you from Karkat bitching about the sight of the gore all over you. Oh, what an intrepid leader. Oh, what a wimp.

So many toys, so little time, and your grin widens as you rummage through the bag. The tweezers first? Or the scissors? There's something incredibly fun about taking a hammer and smashing someone's phalanges one by one, but then your fingertips brush against the screwdriver and the choice is made.

You fasten her hands to the table and slowly twist the screws through the middle of her palms, listening to her howl profanities. She doesn't talk. You rip off a claw and laugh as she screams when you stab a needle into the exposed skin. She doesn't talk. You smash her knees in, and then every finger, hitting the one missing the claw extra hard, but she still. doesn't. talk.

You twist her palm around until the tendon in her wrist sticks out sharply and slice clean through it. You get nothing for your troubles but incoherent hiccupping.

Nothing you do will make her sing, and you're considering taking her other claws when the smell of translucent yellow tears really registers for the first time. You haven't done anything to the eyes yet, but you cackle when the idea occurs to you. Grabbing the tweezers, you put your face up against her, noses almost touching.

"I'm going to rip your eyelids off." The spike of fear is strong enough to be almost overpowering, and she leans as far away from you as she can with her hands screwed to the table.

"No, no, please no, please no, stop, just, no, please," she's mumbling, and you hold up the tweezers, "_pleaseplease, no, godstopnopleaseplease, mercy, pleasehavemercy!"_

It's like peeling the skin off a grape.

"I'll talk! I'll do whatever you want! Just stop!" Her voice is ragged from yelling and one eye is rapidly clogging with blood. Your auditory canals hurt from the noise she produced; it was too animalistic to be a scream, more like the sound Tavros' fairies make when he rips their wings off. Perhaps eyelids are the troll equivalent.

"What's your name?"

"Dianon Freyed, I'm seven sweeps old, please, I just want my lusus."

"Your lusus is probably dead. What's your job?"

"I do intelligence work, I spy, I'm a spy okay?"

"Which member of Alpha were you employed by?"

"One, one of the carapaces, but I'm a mole, I'm double dealing, I'll tell you anything you want just please no more!"

Oh. Things just got interesting.

When you're done, you sit on her lap and press your hands over her nose and mouth. She struggles at first, but quiets, and when she stops moving entirely you wipe the mixture of tears and blood off your fingers onto the front of her shirt and turn the recording device off.

The aftermath of an interrogation is the worst part. Your skin feels itchy from her screams and the room smells like despair. If you stop for too long you find yourself wallowing, justifying every little thing you did, second guessing each action and wondering if you're a terrible person.

Of course you are. You all are, every single one of you, and it is with this thought you stick your head into the corridor and yell for Gamzee. He appears out of the shadows like a wraith, the gentle smile the fairy dust gives him tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"What a pretty little mess you've made here, Terezi," he breathes, licking a long line from the base of her neck to her hairline. You roll your eyes.

"Does Kanaya want any, or are we good to go?"

"After that last heist, she is good for the next twenty motherfucking years." There's the slick sound of him pulling the nails out her hands, then the tinkle of them being dropped in his pocket. You wonder if he's got any spells for them or if he just plans on sucking on them like candy. You've heard that the nails from a tortured corpse are pretty powerful curse objects, particularly in voodoo, but then he sucks a drop of blood off his thumb and your question is answered.

"Care if I join you, Mr Makara? I've been inside for far too long- I need some fresh air." He grins, slow and wide, and hefts the body over one shoulder.

"Ain't no fresh air where we're going, Teresis, but if you don't mind the smell of motherfucking blasphemy then I suppose we're good." You purse your lips and nod, and his grin widens impossibly; you follow him down the corridor, listening to him whistle some ghastly tune and wondering if dulling your mind would be worth it for his perpetual cheer and calm.

Blasphemy smells like smoke, apparently.

Thick, acrid smoke that sends you reeling, coughing and spluttering and unsure of where everything is. There's the sound of heavy machinery in the background, and Gamzee's quiet chuckle at your obvious discomfort, but apart from that you're blind, sightless in every sense of the word. You cling on to him and you hate yourself for it.

"What is this place?" It's barely intelligible between your hacking gasps, but he understands.

"Iron refinery. They burn shit to get it crazy hot and then they turn rocks into metal. Motherfucking miracles, hey, Teresis?"

"You're a complete idiot in every sense of the word, Mr Makara." He's not- you know how iron is extracted, and you know that there will not be a trace of the body left once it has been put in that furnace. It's a clever spot, and this tempered intelligence frustrates you beyond belief.

"It ain't my business to be knowing what them rocks is about; I just dump the corpses where I see fit, and I reckon this one is going to make a swordsman very happy." There is a dull thud far below you, and the smell of mustard wafts up. You turn away from the railings.

You've barely been in the car for ten minutes on the way back when he pulls over and sinks his teeth roughly into your lips. You kiss until your mouths are bloody, a mix of teal and indigo that smells a little like candy and a lot like loathing. Wandering hands scratch and pull and pinch; when you finally make it back, Karkat takes one look at you, snatches the recording away, and stalks off, rubbing furiously at his temples. You make sure your snickers follow him out, then go to wash off the rainbow of blood that paints your skin.


	4. Chapter 4

**== Rose: Indulge in harmless experimentation**

You purse your lips, running your fingers over the surface of the omniball. It's so impossibly smooth, like running your fingers over ether, and it fills you with the same gut-wrenching anticipation felt at the crest of a rollercoaster's climb.

_A legendary weapon is probably the only thing that'll cut it, not unless you got a lot a juice in your punch._

You think of how easily Dave pinned you, hand around your throat. You think of fish-oil breath in your face, and the easy confidence that shone in Vriska's eyes when she looked at you. You think of how useless a potion is when faced with real danger.

You are tired of feeling overpowered and you are tired of being defenceless.

"Do I have the capability to perform non-corporeal magic?" Looking into the ball is like inhaling cold fog; your lungs feel tight, almost like you want to cough, and it leaves a metallic flavour in your mouth.

"How do I channel that capability?"

This time, instead of appearing on the small floating triangle, the answer rings through your mind. It's a list of ingredients and the recipe to mix them up, and you quickly grab your pen to scribble it down before it fades. You then read it back over, frowning slightly- it's not like any magic you've tried before, and a lot of these ingredients are going to be difficult if not impossible to get.

A sharp knock at the door snaps you out of your thoughts.

"Hello Miss Tangy Lavender," calls the troll as she enters, and it takes all your self control not to gasp out loud.

"_You!"_

"Yes, Miss Skaian Sunrise?"

"You're... _here, _why are _you **here**?"_ She gives a familiar, predatory grin, and all at once you are calm again, settling back into the chair from where you had half risen from her entrance. "Hello again, Terezi. I suppose I should have seen this coming?"

"Perhaps we hired the wrong seer!" she says with a cackle, leaning past you to lick a long strip up the recipe sheet. "Valkyrie claws... I think Miss Green Springtime has a stuffed Valkyrie in her office... there'll be plenty of portal residue next to the tunnel, have a consort fetch it... nakkadil blood, again the consorts... bones of time, you'll have to talk to the coolkid for that... _ooh, _fairy hair! Mr Cinnamon Swirl has plenty!"

"You do realise I have no idea who any of these people are, right?" She slumps onto the chair opposite you with a flippant wave of her claw.

"Jade Harley, your human dancestor Dave, and Tavros, all of whom I believe you've already met. But I'm not here to talk to you about procuring your ingredients, delicious as they will be. I come with a warning."

"I'm disappointed," you retort. "I had hoped that we would be sifting through fond memories together. Our initial meeting, that glorious week you remained with me and covered every inch of my humble abode with your teal tinted saliva, the heartfelt farewell. We could have analysed them, and the resulting mistrust that will no doubt layer our future relationships due to your initial deception."

"You're definitely Dave's dancestor," she mutters, and what does that word even mean? You scowl and she smirks before all traces of humour dissiapate like the morning mist. "I'm a seer of mind, Rose. The choices of you and everyone around us are laid out before me like a giant spider web. It's too far stretching for me to smell the consequences of your actions, but I'm warning you now, seer to seer: you are walking a dangerous path."

"Would you care to elaborate?" You ask, and she _growls_, shoving both the omniball and the recipe roughly towards you.

"I have seen better trolls than you- humans, beings, I don't care- fall into Mr Milkshake's trap, and I am trying to stop it from happening again." Her teeth are bared, blank red eyes glittering where the ever-present glasses have slipped, and she looks desperate. "I'm not saying don't use it at all, but I am telling you to be careful on the path you walk."

"I'll do my best not to trip." Your voice comes out cold, and she flips a switch to furious, on her feet and leaning over you threateningly.

"I am an emissary of the law, Miss Human Bruise. If your actions lead to the harm of anyone I am dear to, I will hunt you down and I will bring you to justice."

"I was reading some of the old memos last night," and you are too annoyed to feel intimidated, familiar enough with Terezi to know that she won't make good on that threat. You know her love for regulation, and for now at least you are protected by the rules of the organisation. "I would be fascinated to talk through your definition of justice."

"Watch your fucking step, _seer,_" is her only reply, and with a snarl she stalks out the room.

That definitely could have gone better.

With a frustrated sigh you rub at your face, grimacing at the smear of ink that was your recipe. It doesn't matter- it's like the instructions have been engraved on your brain. You could write it out word for word if you felt the need.

Instead, you push yourself to your feet, trying not to fume. Perhaps once you have access to non-corporeal magic people will stop thinking it's okay to try to threaten you; that's gotten old real fast. Captchaloguing the omniball, you decide to find Tavros first.

You've always wanted to see a fairy.

**== Karkat: Deal with it**

"Are you sure?" Kanaya nods, grim faced, and you resist the urge to slam your head into the desk in front of you. Instead, you take another look at the photos she's spread out, grimacing. "Who found them?"

"A carapace under Nepeta. They were keeping watch for Vriska and Aradia, and stumbled upon the sight." Yeah, you can see the ugly ass fountain that takes pride of place on Alpha's grounds in the background. In the foreground, three mutilated bodies lie in a multihued heap.

"Well that's just fucking great. Is his head ripped off? His head is ripped off. Who even does that?"

"As far as I'm aware, it would have to be the highest level of carapace, a member of the monarchy, to achieve that. A human wouldn't have a chance. As for trolls, well, perhaps an older sea-dweller, but there have been none sighted in the area. That or Horuss, but I highly doubt it considering..."

"Considering he's fucking whipped. So you have no idea what could have done it?" She hesitates and you lean forward, voice urgent. "Kanaya, if you have even the left toenail clipping of a guess's descendant, you need to spill those beans like they insulted your horns. These are members of Alpha; it could be us next."

"It's completely impossible" she replies, voice low. "But it reminds me of... of descriptions I have read in books, and heard from Eridan. Of the sort of damage caused by born-again angels."

"Fuck."

"Karkat, it can't be angels." Her voice is placating, but her eyes shine with worry. "They're trapped in the third realm, there's no way for them to come to us, it has to be something else." You stop and look to your husktop screen, where your finished memo sits, waiting to be printed. They're sent out every two weeks to all FRAF members, and highlight recent events that people should be aware of. One of these events is the arrival of Rose; another is yesterday's meeting.

"Angel blood," you say softly, and Kanaya's eyes go very wide. "It... it, fuck, it kick-starts your adrenaline production, take enough and you'd be stronger than a cholerbear."

"This is bad," she says.

"No fucking kidding." You rake your claws through your hair and sigh, leaning back in your chair. "Okay, tell Equius to amp up the security. At least tenfold. Any unregistered people on the property are to be shot on sight, do you hear me? Gamzee is off everything-"

"_Everything?_" she cuts in, and you pause. No, not everything- you don't want him sober.

"Everything but fairy dust. Not even Faygo, okay? Actually, you know what, I'll tell him that. God, but I need a fucking feelings jam. Once we're finished with English I need Serket and Megido sent to me, the troll that Terezi got earlier was double dealing Alpha for another gang."

"Idiot."

"Fucking tell me about it. Oh yeah, tell Lalonde that she's coming to the drop off- I want her to see exactly how repugnant those cretins she calls dancestors are so that she can stop fucking moping about it. I'll find Harley before we talk to English and get her strengthen the wards."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah; you're not a complete waste of oxygen, even if I'm not entirely sure you actually breathe, and I thank you from the bottom of my shrivelled black heart for keeping me sane through times like these. Tell you what, if we reach the fucking hot season and we're still alive, you can have a jar of my blood." She gives you a demure smile, all cheekbones and green lipstick.

"I find you not entirely terrible as well. Now go find your moirail, you look like something Nepeta dragged in. Oh, and Karkat?" You pause. "Stay safe. We can't afford to lose you."

"Don't worry your fangs about it; the universe hasn't finished completely fucking me over yet."

**== Rose: Procure fairy hair**

You stop outside the door and double check the number- 88, just as the consort said. From inside there is the muffled thrum of club music and the occasional whoop or cheer. Rather than knocking, you push the door open a crack and peer in.

The light spills into the room, but none of the occupants seem to notice. It's a fairly large room, walls and carpets a nondescript cream and empty safe for a cracked leather sofa pushed against one wall and a set of speakers in the corner.

In the middle of the room, two male trolls and a dersite stand in varying states of undress, dancing and twisting and grinding against each other in time to the music. Aradia and Vriska are draped over the sofa, watching through hooded eyes, bottles of alcohol strewn between them. One of the trolls, already shirtless, slips his jeans down and kicks them away. Aradia whoops and throws a boondollar at him- he catches it, winks, and slips it into his troll boxers.

You feel extremely uncomfortable, and are about to leave when you catch sight of Tavros, sat on the floor next to the sofa, hidden in shadow. Shutting the door behind you, you make your way over, trying not catch the attention of anyone else lest this somehow escalate.

He's doing sums in a book, head bent low over the page, and when he catches sight of you and sits up you see there's a smudge of graphite on his nose. You're not quite sure which one of you looks more perturbed by your surroundings.

"Hello again, Tavros. Would it be okay if I steal a moment of your time?"

"You can steal as much as you, uh, need. Why are you... here?" He glances at the undulating group and wrinkles his nose.

"I need some ingredients for one of my potions, and was told that you can help me. I can always come back at another time if that would be more convenient?" With pursed lips he looks from the group to the girls, who are mostly silent save for the occasional whoop or catcall.

"As much as I would like to, remove myself, from this situation, I can't."

"I assume this is why rule six exists?"

"This is exactly why rule six exists."

Suddenly the door swings open, and the silhouette of a stocky troll is just visible against the harsh light of the corridor. Everyone in the room winces, and he flushes a deep cerulean.

"I was visited by Aradia from tomorrow. She said that you had need of me?" Tavros nods, mechanical legs whirring as he pushes himself to his feet.

"Equius, yes I, uh, do." You can see him school his features into a stern expression. "I need to help Rose, so you need to watch these two."

"Very... very well," Equius manages to stammer out. Holy shit, there is suddenly sweat pouring down his face; you are too grossed out to seize this fact with your usual gleeful abandon. He walks to the sofa, most likely to stand vigil over it, but Vriska grabs him and pulls him down and Aradia sinks a bite into his shoulder that makes him yelp. You and Tavros abscond quickly.

"Will he be alright in there?" you ask once the door has shut behind you. Tavros shrugs.

"I really, don't actually care. But what things do you need? Because I would have thought that, well, Jade would be a better person for stuff like potion ingredients."

"She's on my list, but this relates more to you: is there any chance you have any fairy hair?" He stares, nonplussed, before blinking and snapping out of it.

"Fairy hair? Well, I have the fairies. You can come, uh, take some hair from them. Any particular... type?"

"Preferably from ice or iron, if possible." He grimaces and begins to walk away. You follow him through the corridors and resolve to have someone draw out an actually legible map, even if you can only study it for a few minutes. It doesn't help that large sections of building look exactly the same.

"Of course it would be, the most violent type. No one ever wants, anything from the petal fairies." He stops outside a door with an oddly ornate handle. "You may want to, well, cover your ears." You raise an eyebrow but oblige, clapping your hands over your ears as he twists an old fashioned key in the slot and pushes the door open.

The noise is terrible, the screams of the fairies rising in a cacophonous symphony over the sound of cages being rattled, tiny fists and feet kicking against their wire prisons. The smell is almost as bad; it's cloying and sickly sweet, like rotting fruit, with a rough cut of iron that stings at your nose. You recognise it from the apothecary- it's the smell of fairy blood.

They look dreadful, eyes wild with anger and hatred, hair long and matted. Some are huddled in their cages, stumps where their wings once were dribbling blood and pus. Most face you, baring their teeth and howling. There are deep scratches gouged into their skin, gnarled nails crusted with dried blood. They are mad, frenzied, but at a sharp glare from Tavros the noise quiets, and do troll eyes naturally glow in dim light? You can't remember. Regardless, the fairies sink back down to the bottom of their cages, still hissing softly.

You feel queasy.

"I have an ice fairy, down here, with quite a lot of hair. I don't, well, know how much you want?"

"No more than a few strands, but perhaps I should take a head for future use- a head of hair, I mean, not an entire head."In this environment, you believe it's a necessary distinction to make.

The ice fairy is down at the end, and while he pulls on his gloves you inspect the cages. They're a fine mesh, just tall enough for a fairy to stand up straight in, and slightly longer than they are tall. With every movement that a fairy makes, glittering powder drops from it, through the mesh and into tray below. Tavros notices you looking.

"Fairy dust; it's a natural relaxant. I think it's similar to that human drug called, uh, weed? Except more addictive."

"And the wings?"

"Strongest natural hallucinogen in any of the three dimensions, that we know of. Is this good?" He indicates a pale grey fairy, which growls when you look.

"Yes, that looks like plenty."

Almost quicker than your eyes can follow, he opens the cage and grabs the fairy. It immediately begins to scream, and that makes the others start again too. You realise he was probably using some form of psychic powers to keep them quiet before. It would explain the eyes.

With one hand he pins it down on top of the cage, pinkie finger between wing stubs that look like they're just beginning to grow back, thumbs pressing on its ankles. It howls and struggles, but with one slick slice of a pair of scissors he pulled out his pocket the bird's nest of hair is detached. He quickly shoves it back in its cage, slamming the door and giving the front a hard smack for good measure. Slowly the screaming dies down. He holds the hair out to you.

"Here you go. If you need any more, uh, just find me. I know that they sometimes use the bones, and the blood, in potions, so it'll save you a trip to the apothecary." You restrain a grimace as you pocket the clump of hair, smiling at him instead. "In fact, if you uh, come with me to my desk, you can have a set, of keys. Then you can get it, yourself, and not have to rely on me."

"That's very kind of you," you say, following him back through the corridors and to an area that seems a bit like an office block, with several desks and a pot plant in one corner. As he begins to rifle through the drawers, looking for a spare set, your eyes fall to an open file on the desktop. Curiosity piqued, you begin to read it upside down.

_Name: Fairy Dust_

_Chemical Name: Celestane Fae_

_Active ingredient: __delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol _

_Added Ingredients: Sucrose, Acroline, Cadmium, Polonium-210, Propanalol- _The list continues for almost half the page.

_Effects: Increased production of dopamine, serotonin and cortisol over several days, calmness, lack of coordination, short term memory loss, disorientation-_

"Here you are," he says, handing you a comically oversized key before glancing down at the desk. "Oh, Jade and I are trying to document, scientifically, all the drugs, because a lot isn't known, about a lot of them, and we feel that's unsafe."

"The drug dealer feels that it's unsafe?" You repeat dryly, and he blushes.

"No, I'm just the, producer. John and Kanaya are in charge of actually selling it."

"Ah. Well, that clear's everything up." You give him your best smile, and are rewarded with much incoherent stuttering. "Thank you very much for your time, Tavros. I'll see you around."


	5. Chapter 5

**== Jade: Deal with your sibling**

"Jade, may I have a word with you please?"

"Sorry Rose, I'd love to talk, but I have to go deal with my..." You pause, unwilling to admit it. "Brother." Ugh.

"I just need to ask you about your stuffed valkyries."

"What about them?" She takes a nervous step back as you open your rifle, checking to make sure it's loaded before flicking the safety on. Don't want to accidentally shoot a consort!

"Could I have their claws for one of my potions?"

"Ooh, look at you! I thought I was supposed to be the witch!" You grab the case file before turning to her. "You can have the whole thing if you want, and then after we're done with Jake you and I are going into town, and we are going to talk! Because I barely know you, and that's got to change. We can invite Dave and John along too! Have you met John yet?" She blinks, nonplussed.

"I don't see why we can't. And no, I haven't met anyone called John yet."

"He's my cousin. He's a doofus- you'll love him!" The clock stares at you accusingly, and with a final curse and a quick "I'll find you later!" to Rose, you hurry out the room.

Karkat is waiting for you outside the door to the interrogation room, arms crossed and foot tapping an angry little rhythm. Further down the corridor, Kanaya treats you to a raised eyebrow and a knowing smile.

"Nice to see you, Harley; what's the rush? It isn't like I have better uses for my time than to sit around waiting on you like you're the Condesce herself and I'm the Psiionic."

"Do I really have to do this?"

"You know the rules; if we're going too far, it's your job to stop it. They'll do the same if you ever get caught." You give him your best pouty face, but he remains stoic, so you scowl back instead.

"I can manipulate the fabric of space itself, I'm not going to get caught."

"You once fused your soul with a dog's for a week because you sneezed in the middle of a spell."

"Are you ever going to let that go?"

"Not until you stop bitching about baby-sitting duties."

"Ha. Ha ha. You're so punny. Tell me, how much use was Kankri when you were caught?" Kanaya is watching this all with the expectant air of someone who really wishes they had popcorn, or grub-crunches or whatever, to snack on while they enjoy the show.

"They used him as the fucking method of torture, is how useful he was. They let him lecture me for three hours on why it was problematic that we hire more black carapaces than white; it's not like we fucking peddle drugs or develop ever better ways to paint the walls with each other's grey matter. Clearly the problem is our inherent racism." You giggle and he glares. "Into the room, Harley, or you'll be spending the next three months polishing Ampora's rifles." With a grimace you go in, Karkat and Kanaya close behind.

Jake gives you a buck-toothed grin from where he's sat, tied to the chair. He's sporting a black eye that was probably from Vriska's robot arm, and on his arm whip lashes are still seeping blood.

"Well, about bloody time you showed up! I have more to do in life than to hang around waiting for my little sister and her friends to get their acts together." There's no need to look sideways to know that Karkat's expression mirrors yours perfectly- flat, pissed off, and filled with enough disdain to crush a bear.

"I would say that I do not believe you understand the situation you're in, but considering that you have already been tied to this very chair thrice before and know what is to come, I may have to conclude that you're simply an imbecile," says Kanaya, giving her two pence. He snorts.

"What's a few broken ribs between friends? We're all tortfeasors here, even darling little sister over there." You glare, already feeling a migraine coming on from that stupid, fake accent. That had been the final nail in his coffin, as far as you were considered- the fact that as soon as he joined a gang he felt the need to start talking like a Chicago monster. As if he wasn't already insufferable enough, he had to go parading around like some sort of idiotic Al Capone. Your glare deepens, and you wonder if Karkat would authorise a kidnapping where you just leave him in Alcatraz for a few weeks. It's not like he would be able to get out- your brother may be almost as powerful as you, but he can't actually use any of it unless someone is mind controlling him.

God, he is actually pathetic.

"Besides," he's still talking, "it's not like Terezi's even around. What are the rest of you going to do? Shrink me? Drink my blood?" You pull out your gun and shoot him through the foot.

"I should really reprimand you for that," says Karkat over the sound of Jake's panicked shrieks.

"Are you going to?"

"Like fuck I am."

**== Rose: Talk to Dave**

The door beeps as it rejects your key code a third time and your frown deepens. As far as you were aware, as a FRAF member you had access to everywhere except the private chambers of other FRAF members. With a sigh, you push the 'request entry' button instead.

"Oh. It's you."

"What on earth happened to your shirt?"

"This?" He looks down at the plain red shirt, covered in dust and bright patches of colour, as well as what appears to be chunks of pumpkin. "Nah man, this is normal. I've got so much cool, there isn't room for it all. I secrete chill like a snail, leaving a trail of awesome wherever I go. You're welcome." There is a pause, and he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, leaving a powdery red patch. "Do you wanna come in?"

"You should have told me," you say as the door swishes shut behind you. He grimaces and opens his mouth. "No, don't. I want you to know that you should have told me. However, I understand that it's a difficult subject to broach and that I am not the most approachable person, particularly under the less than favourable conditions in which we met. I bear you no ill will."

"Cool," he says, and you follow him down the corridor. "Because it would really suck if you hated all of your news siblings. You'd be like a female Karkat, and we've already got Jade to fill that role. The universe would fucking implode from the amount of raw ire, like we're all miners digging for natural anger, only we dug too deep and caused a cave in and died from our own hubris."

"Really? I met her at the meeting, and earlier today, and she seemed to be possibly the most level headed person in this enterprise, save perhaps Kanaya."

"Kanaya is a lie. She seems calm, but if you push her too far she will murder your ass. I've seen her saw people in half before, like a magician who missed that the whole point is that you don't actually saw people in half. Jade, though; Jade's just crazy. She drinks soy sauce."

"Drinks soy sauce?"

"Yeah, just chugs bottles of it. It's the salt in it." He feigns a deeps sigh, placing a hand over his chest. "Addiction is a powerful thing."

You are both stopped outside a door; it is the only door in the entirety of the impressive length of corridor. Unlike other doors in the building, it is completely plain- not electric or numbered, no key hole or code pad by the side; there isn't even a handle. For a moment you both just stand there staring at each other.

"Are you planning on opening the door, or have you decided that this is an adequate place to hold a conversation?" Even from behind his shades, he's giving you a very strange look, and you resist the urge to shift uncomfortably.

"Yeah," he says after a long moment. "Yeah, no, we're going in the room. We're doing this, Rose. We're making this happen."

The room beyond feels more like a classroom in a kindergarten than a top security room in an illegal organisation that even the highest level of clearance can't get you access to. Although, perhaps Karkat could override the code. These aren't Dave's private quarters, so you don't really know what the rules are regarding this.

The walls are a vibrant blue, meticulously painted clouds spread over them in fluffy whorls. Over this, crayon drawings on sugar paper have been stuck up with tape. Brightly coloured toys are pushed into the corners in heaps, and beanbags litter the room.

"Here," he says, passing something over to you. "You'll need this."

The entire centre of the room is taken up with a shambolic mass of what looks like junk, but at a second glance you realise there is a pattern to it. Cans are piled high, various objects placed on top of them, and between the piles are toy cars, plastic trees and Barbie dolls, both troll and human. The ground is covered in chalk drawings of roads and more flora, and pieces of paper stuck to stacks explain what they are- Town Hall, Telephone Tower, Jail, Bakery. When you look down, you see you are clutching a can of Heinz Original Baked Beans.

"WV?" Dave calls, stepping out into the room. "Hey WV, I'm back. I told you I'd be back quickly, didn't I?" From behind the 'Celebrity Block Of Flats (and daves awesome crib)' peers a carapace.

Suddenly nothing makes sense.

Dave's voice is gentle as he continues, stretching a hand out to the dersite. "See. I'm back already. And I brought a friend. This is Rose; she's my sister." It creeps forward, slowly, putting a hand on each precarious structure as though for support. "She's not here to hurt you. She actually brought a present- look!" You take this as your cue, and hold out the can, offering what you hope is a reassuring smile.

There is a long pause while its eyes flick from the can to you to Dave and back again. Then it leans forward, and with a sharp movement that makes you flinch slightly, snatches the can out of your hands. It inspects it closely, looks back up at you, and then does a happy little jig. Your smile widens.

"Rose, this is the Mayor. Mayor, this is Rose." The mayor gives you a quick nod before scampering away to carefully balance the beans atop the town hall. "So what do you think of Can Town?"

"If I had had to devise a list beforehand of things I didn't expect to happen, this wouldn't even have made the list." You watch as the Mayor crouches down to peer eye to eye with a scalemate, gesturing as though holding a conversation. "However, it's impressive- even if it does blatantly flout every known law of physics."

"Knowing a witch of space is useful when committing a crime in quantum city."

"Pity that these misdemeanours are occurring in the Town of Relativity."

"It all falls under the same individual's jurisdiction. Luckily, the Mayor isn't above using the imperial coffers to bribe his Honourable Tyranny into letting me walk free. Terezi keeps threatening to bring him to justice, but the mayor is very persuasive. Justice is blind, but it can still taste the 'delicious hue of red chalk.'" The Mayor picks up the scalemate and carries it over to the prison, where he proceeds to scribble out a note reading 'awaiting trial' to stick to its head.

"Dave, why do you have a large playroom with a carapace?"

He sighs and pushes his sunglasses up onto his forehead and again you feel a jolt at the bright red eyes. You both go to sit down on a pair of beanbags, sinking down in an ungainly mess of limbs with a soft fooosh.

"Carapaces are really progressive in a lot of things. Like, they have no problem with sexuality, little kiddie carapaces choose their own pronouns, stuff like that. But when it comes to stuff like mental illness, they're like fucking medieval peasants- all set to tie them up and pelt them with rotten fruit."

"Oh," you say softly. You're not quite sure what else you can say.

"So I was at a carnival one day, and there's a freak show. It's got all the usual stuff- bearded lady, troll with nipples, that sort of thing. And then I reach the last exhibit, and there's the Mayor in the middle of this ring, and he's half naked and he's terrified, Rose, he's actually fucking terrified. Because they're selling these, like, cherry bomb things, five for a boondollar, and people are throwing them, they're exploding all around him; he's running around in circles, everyone is laughing and jeering, and them someone gets him with a can of drink and completely soaks him, and I just see red."

You try to picture it- think about similar scenes you're read in your fantasy books and in historical novels, the cruelty that was shown, and you can why understand Dave reacted the way he did.

"So I jump into the pit and I pull out my sword, and I tell them 'Throw one more cherry bomb and we can turn this into a lesson on xenobiology.' They all freeze, just stop and stare at me. I grab the Mayor and I bring him back here and Karkat gives us this sweet dig."

"Just like that?"

"You can't say no to the Mayor, Rose; you'd have to have a heart of fucking stone. Even Eridan, and I quote, 'does not hold him in complete contempt.' Guy is impossible to dislike."

"Is he actually mentally disabled?"

"Yeah; I don't really know a lot about it, but Nepeta says that he's autistic, like really severe." He gives you a sharp look. "But I don't want you prying. He's not some toy you can just dissect for your own amusement, okay?"

"You don't need to worry about me; I completely respect his right to privacy." The Mayor now seems to be mediating an argument between a Barbie and a Her Imperial Condescension plush toy (now with 80% more hair!). "You obviously care very deeply for him."

"Well, god, of course I do. It's like... we're like best bros. And I gotta look out for him. Gotta make sure nothing happens to him again."

"It's a beautiful thing, this troll disease called Moirallegiance."

"Shut your face, Lalonde." The Mayor bounds over, clutching a bright orange pumpkin to his chest. "Hey; cool pumpkin, man. You still hungry?" He stuffs the pumpkin under his cloak and gives an elaborate shrug, turning to you.

"Pumpkin? Dave, what pumpkin? I am quite sure there has never been a pumpkin here." The Mayor grins widely and does another little jig, before pulling out a crumpled piece of paper, shoving it into your hand and running off. You smile at the swirly drawing before glancing at Dave, who is looking at you oddly again. "What?"

"Not bad, Lalonde. Not bad at all."


End file.
